


Lessons Learned

by zinke



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-23
Updated: 2008-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:05:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: Originally posted to survivalinstinct.net on November 22, 2008.Many thanks go as always to caz963 and nnaylime for their suggestions and encouragement. Special thanks to chaila43 for offering a non-writer’s perspective.





	

It had been petty, irrational, and wrong. But in that moment, with the shrill shriek of the raiders overhead filling her ears and the anxious press of her students’ bodies against her back, Laura had hated Bill Adama. 

_The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few._ It was a lesson of which she’d been painfully reminded only hours after her ascension to the Presidency. And not a day since has gone by when she hasn’t had to quash the impulse to disregard it, to lead with her heart rather than her head, as Bill so often seemed determined to do.

A year ago, with the seemingly impenetrable expanse of the President’s desk between them, Bill had sat before her and told her she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. At the time Laura had thought him naïve, but in hindsight she’s realized that the error in judgment had ultimately been hers. It was she who had made the mistake of allowing his steady, self-assured words to draw her gaze to his. In that instant what little resolve she’d had to see the deception through to the end had been irreparably, inevitably broken, and Laura had found herself wanting nothing more than to feel worthy of the metaphorical pedestal on which Bill had placed her – the woman he looked on with affection when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

For perhaps the first time since the destruction of the Colonies, Laura had made the conscious choice to put aside everything and everyone else, and allowed herself the luxury of a purely selfish choice. And what had it gotten them? 

Their existence – because what the Colonists were doing on New Caprica certainly wasn’t living – had quickly become an endless progression of days marked by gloom, mud, and toil. Occasionally, the sun would slice through the sky’s stubborn layer of clouds, bringing a renewed blush of life not only to Colonist’s cheeks but to the land on which they lived. But those days had been few and far between, and even those rare respites hadn’t been enough to chase away the people’s growing disillusionment. Unable – perhaps unwilling – to do anything more, Laura had stood by and watched as those around her slowly began to realize that the only thing this planet shared with its namesake was in fact the name itself.

One hundred, a thousand different times – when the primary generator had failed, plunging the settlement into three days of wintry darkness; when her students had looked at her with feverish eyes because medication had come into short supply; when Baltar had cut food rations for the third time in four months – Laura had found herself wishing she could step back in time, take hold of her younger self’s shoulders and shake some sense into her. Force herself to brush aside Bill’s well-meaning endeavor to safeguard her soul and make the right wrong choice.

Though, if she were truly honest with herself, she knew with disappointing certainty that it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. Deep down she had wanted to be convinced, to be saved. All she’d needed was for Bill, in his noble naïveté, to present her with the opportunity.

And so as she’d stood in the damp chill of the New Caprican winter and watched the architects of their past and future destruction fill her people’s eyes with terror, Laura had blamed Bill because it had been easier than blaming herself.

Now, these many months later, as she runs through the dust-choked streets of New Caprica City with the sounds of screams and gunfire filling her ears, the haunting presence of that day is the last thing she needs. There’ll be time enough for navel-gazing later, once she and everyone else on this miserable planet are safely back amongst the stars, under the comforting hulk of Galactica’s protection. 

She’s no sooner pushed the last vestiges of the memory from her mind when without warning, a roar the likes of which she’s never heard before begins to build from somewhere behind her. Instinctively she turns to seek out the source of the monstrous noise as the deckhand – Jammer, she remembers – glances skyward, then abruptly begins pointing and yelling. The noise around them has become too great for her to be able to hear his words, but his meaning is clear; she too looks up into the vivid blue sky – only to feel her heart stop at the unimaginable sight of Galactica, her hull cradled in fire, plummeting through the ionosphere towards them. 

“Oh my gods,” she whispers, horrified, as her mind draws the only logical conclusion it can: that the Battlestar, its crew and Admiral – Bill – are lost. Before she’s able to think or feel anything else, the ship disappears with a thunderous clap, sending a blast of hot acrid air, dirt and debris into her eyes as it jumps away. 

The shockwave knocks Laura off-balance and she stumbles slightly, blindly reaching out a hand to steady herself as she blinks furiously to clear her vision. Her outstretched fingers make contact with the metal post of a tent and she grabs hold of it desperately, then presses her other hand to her chest in an attempt to quell the erratic pounding of her heart. 

Laura barely has a chance to catch her breath before she feels the unexpected pressure of a hand on her shoulder and reflexively she whips her head around, the movement so quick she can feel the snap of it in the muscles of her neck. To her relief, her eyes alight on Jammer standing close beside her, his concerned gaze dancing alternately between her and the sky. The question he yells to her is barely audible over the growing roar of Viper engines and the persistent ringing in her ears. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

Eyes still stinging, she spares a final, lingering glance skyward before stepping purposefully out of his grasp. “We need to keep moving. Let’s go.”

Laura doesn’t wait to see if he’s heard her; she simply begins to run, arms pumping rhythmically at her side, her eyes unerringly trained on their goal – her ship – from this distance appearing as nothing more than a phantom through the haze of dust and smoke that now blankets the city. But she’s going to make it there, no matter how far the distance or how many frakking Cylons might be standing in her way. Because if Bill Adama is crazy enough to tempt the fates and dare to rise from the ashes of this hell then she’ll do whatever it takes to make it to the other side with him and have the chance to look him in the eye secure in the knowledge that she’s gotten there on her own two feet. 

Against her will, the memory of that day surfaces once again, the sound of Bill’s voice pushing through the frantic jumble of her thoughts with a strength and clarity that through circumstance or her own design, she’d all but forgotten. The battle perhaps; but not the war.

She’d blamed Bill, yes; maybe she still does. But regardless of her feelings, he’s come back to set things right and in doing so is offering her the opportunity to do the same, a chance to make right what their selfishness had made wrong. And this time Laura would make certain she remained strong enough to stay the course – for the both of them.

She won’t make the same mistake twice.

Lesson learned.

 

*fin*


End file.
